Dreams
by devilluck
Summary: Morgana dreams of Camelot.


Title: Dreams

Author: devilluck

Rating: PG

Warnings: Bit of death, doom and destruction I suppose. Nothing major. No spoilers that I can see, except for the general Arthurian legends.

Dislacimer: Don't own Merlin

Summary: Morgana dreams of Camelot.

A/N: I'm not exactly happy with how this turned out, but if I didn't get it out, it would never leave me.

****

Morgana dreams.

Morgana dreams, and in her dreams, she sees the destruction of Camelot. Only fleetingly; never so she can fully remember. But visions of fire, and blood, and despair haunt her. They follow her, like the shadow of a memory of a dream. She tries to focus on them, but they slip away like water through her fingers. She tries to ignore them, but they flash at the corner of her eye.

She wakes one morning, the dream still fresh in her mind. She clings to it fearfully, unwilling to let it go. It may herald destruction, but it is a sign she is not going mad; in that brief moment, she understands everything. She watches as Arthur and Mordred fight, watches the fields churn beneath the feet of knights. She sees herself as she will become, and recoils, eyes squeezed shut. When she opens them again, all knowledge is gone. Once again, she is Lady Morgana, ward to the King, slowly and surely descending into madness.

She laughs at a comment of Gwen's, and in that laugh hears the future echo of cruelty and mocking. She shudders violently, but has forgotten why by the time her maid looks up.

When dining with Uther and his son, she catches a splash of red. She turns to mock Arthur for spilling his wine like a child, but sees blood spreading across his front, his face stricken with pain, gasping out his final breath. Her knife drops to the ground with a clatter and the vision flees. She cannot answer why she is weeping, nor why she cannot look at Arthur without sadness for a week after.

Gwen, her dear, sweet Gwen. Morgana watches her with Arthur, notices her affection towards the Prince. She knows it's not love, not yet, maybe never, but their friendship is doing each of them good and Morgana rejoices in seeing them. Until a shadow passes over them, and she is longer watching two friends grow closer to each other. Instead, she is bearing witness to the death of a Queen, the mourning of a country. Gwen no longer stands smiling, but instead is bound, hands behind her back, tears running down her face. Arthur, too, is crying, staring at the pyre, alternately cursing and wishing for Lancelot. Morgana cries out for them both, falling to her knees with grief. Her companions turn to her, and she claws at Gwen's dress, frantically pulling her closer.

"You cannot love him." She sobs, determined to Gwen see, to _understand._ "If you love him, it will be the end of us all."

She watches helplessly as Gwen's eyes flit nervously to Arthur, but before she can correct her, can tell her that she's got it wrong, it's gone. The vision leaves her, crumpled on the floor, sobbing for deaths she can no longer remember, for hurts that have not yet happened.

Morgana enters Gauis' workshop, hoping to find a cure for her inexplicable breakdowns, when she sees Merlin. In the middle of an argument with the physician, he is stood, one arm outstretched, gesticulating. Her eyes widen, and she sees him as he should be seen, golden fire burning in his eyes, the earth shuddering at his command, moving at his fingertips. She sees him as he will be seen; fighting desperately for Arthur, against the magic of Mordred and herself, the last battle any of them will see. She sees the power within him, watches as he kills men and twists the land for the sake of his king. She _knows,_ she knows he is her last chance, a chance she wasn't aware she was looking for.

"Merlin." She stretches out to him, ignoring the questioning look of Gaius, seeking only the wide-eyed bewilderment of the boy in front of her. "Merlin, you must stop me. You-only you can, Merlin. _You must stop me_."

Merlin looks to Gaius in confusion, looking for guidance on how to treat her. Gaius tries to take her arm, but she shakes him off impatiently, beseeching Merlin to _promise_ her, promise that he will stop her. She doesn't stop until at last he nods his head, the faint light of understanding dawning in his eyes, or so she hopes. She cannot be sure he _does_ understand, she doesn't even know whether she understands it, but he promised. The future leaves her, empty and hollow, and she allows Gaius and Merlin to take her back to her chambers.

That night, the dream changes. Maybe Merlin truly did understand. Maybe she changed the future through her own actions. Morgana no longer dreams without hope; the future is bleak, but not forsaken. She no longer sees Gwen burn; instead she is saved by Lancelot, the two of them leaving together. Arthur no longer dies alone on a field, bleeding onto the soil; instead she sees him being borne away by Merlin, to rest in Avalon until he is healed. She sees herself, insane and twisted by hate. She sees Merlin, fighting against her for Camelot. She sees herself fail, sees herself fall. She sees Merlin cry over the wreck she will become, over the kind, strong, _beautiful _woman he used to know.

Morgana no longer sees her friends' deaths; instead she sees her own, and she is glad. For although she will turn against them in the future, although she will hate them with all of her being, right now she loves them just as much.

*****

Reviews, as always, are much appreciated.


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